


Little Princess

by redcandle17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/pseuds/redcandle17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myrcella Baratheon is, above all else, a <i>princess</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Princess

King’s Landing grew smaller and smaller as the ship sailed further out into the Narrow Sea. Myrcella watched the city of her birth until it had disappeared. Rosamund grew seasick and went to rest in their cabin but Myrcella stayed on deck and Ser Arys stayed by her side. She did not know when she would see her family again.

The Red Keep was no longer her home. Sunspear was to be her new home and the Martells were to be her new family. Myrcella had known that one day she would marry and leave home, but it always seemed a long time away. She was not even a maiden flowered yet, only a little girl of ten.

_I am a princesss, not an ordinary girl._ Princesses were expected to be strong and make sacrifices for their people. Septa Eglantine had told her all about the Targaryen princess Daenerys who'd wed a Dornish prince to help make peace between Dorne and the rest of Westeros. Daenerys had loved Daemon Blackfyre but she'd done her duty to the realm and married Prince Maron. Myrcella supposed she was lucky she did not have to sacrifice a great love. She was sad to leave her mother and Tommen though, especially Tommen. Without her to intervene, Joffrey might be even more unkind to him.

The thought of her older brother caused an unpleasant sensation in her tummy. Sansa Stark had been so happy to be betrothed to Joff and he'd treated her so terribly when he became king. What if Trystane Martell treated her like Joffrey treated Sansa? _Trystane is not a king, he can't do whatever he pleases,_ she told herself. And she had Ser Arys to protect her.

She made herself think of the good things. She'd never been to Dorne before, although she'd traveled most of the rest of the kingdom with her parents. It was said to be warm there even during winters and they always had oranges. She tried to think what else good she'd heard of the place and its people. Mother did once say that the one thing the Dornish had right was their inheritance law. Under Dornish law elder sisters inherited before younger brothers. Dornish law only applied in Dorne, though, so Tommen was Joff's heir, not her.

Suddenly Myrcella missed her father. Robert Baratheon had been the greatest warrior in the land, having become king after slaying Rhaegar Targaryen with his war hammer. When the Iron Isles had rebelled against his rule, King Robert had smashed them into surrender. Although it was not often, he'd petted her hair whenever he saw her and sometimes he'd pick her up high in the air and spin her around. He'd told her she could join him hunting, too, but Mother said it wasn't a suitable place for a princess.

_If Father was alive, no one would dare hurt me._ Uncle Jaime was the best warrior in the realm now that her father was dead, but he was a prisoner of the Starks. It really was too bad that Eddard Stark had conspired to take Joff's crown. Myrcella rather liked Sansa and she'd liked the Stark boys she'd met at Winterfell, too, although Arya Stark was a different matter.

She remembered Robb Stark being quite handsome and she wondered if Trystane Martell was handsome. Septa Eglantine said it didn't matter what he looked like as long as he had a kind heart. Myrcella hoped he had a kind heart _and_ a fair face.

Her mother Queen Cersei had come to her chambers the night before and hugged her fiercely. "You are a lioness," her mother said, "Never forget that, my darling little princess."

Myrcella was of her father's House, as all trueborn children were, and the sigil of House Baratheon was a stag. Girl stags weren't stags though, they were does. They were gentle and lovely but not fierce. However, she reasoned, she had her mother's blood within her as well as her father's, which meant she was half gentle and half fierce.

After Ser Arys excused himself to seek the privy, Myrcella leaned on the rail of the ship and looked at the water below. It seemed bluer than it had ever looked from King's Landing. The air smelled cleaner, too, and the strong breeze was a pleasant contrast to the heat of the midday sun. Myrcella wished she could slip off her shoes and dip her toes in the water. She supposed she could order the crew to pull up a bucket of sea water for her but it wouldn't be the same.

She must have leaned too far because the circlet she wore on special occasions fell from her head. But even as she recoiled in horror her hand shot out and grabbed it before it could fall far. Myrcella clutched the gold band to her chest, her heart beating loud as a drum. It had been a gift from her mother, who'd said a princess ought to have a crown. It would have been an ill omen indeed to lose it.

Myrcella settled the circlet back on her head and made sure not to lean. Septa Eglantine would say leaning was a bad habit that would lead to poor posture anyway. There was a splash as something rose from the surface and quickly dived back down again.

"Did you see that, princess?" asked a passing sailor. "It was a mermaid."

The maesters said no one had ever caught a mermaid and that they didn't exist, but Myrcella liked to think otherwise. She looked every day but weeks passed without her seeing a mermaid again. Rosamund said she'd gotten brown from spending so much time in the sun but Myrcella didn't think the Martells would mind. Their sigil was a sun pierced by a spear and all Dornishmen were said to be brown of skin. _I am to be a sun princess._

She donned her finest gown the morning the captain said they would arrive in port. As she watched land come into sight, Myrcella Baratheon straightened her golden circlet and stood as tall she could, ready to face Dorne.


End file.
